Awake in a Nightmare
by HazelEyes31
Summary: Ten years after the Final Battle and everything is great for Hermione. That is until the nightmare start; and they start coming to life. As she realises her fears, Hermione must banish this monster before it -well, before it kills her. HG/MM May get scary


A/N: Ok, so this is slightly AU for a two reasons.

1) Molly Weasley (love that woman), didn't kill Bellatrix, Hermione did.

2) Ron and Hermione never married so consequently there is no Rose and Hugo.

That's about it, so hope you enjoy!

...

It was ten years to the day since The Battle had happened. Ten years since Voldemort had fallen; dissolved away into the ash that was the remainder of his soul and burned like the fires in hell.

Ten years since she'd killed Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione still shuddered at the memory; still felt the coldness that swept from her heart to her wand arm as she said those words, a hundred different screams reverberating around her as she looked the narcotic woman in the eye.

_Avada Kedavra. _

She still remembered the look on Bellatrix's face as she fell, one of disbelief and disgust. Her last words, spat at her feet like poison as the light dimmed from her eyes. As her body hit the floor.

_Mudblood._

The same word that was scarred on her arm, a puckered pink wound that would not fade, brandished her like cattle. Hermione traced the lettering with her fingertip, her thoughts so loud that she missed the gentle footsteps behind her, only alerted to her wife's presence as the woman wrapped her arms around Hermione's shoulders.

Minerva breathed a disdainful sigh, 'does it bother you still?' Her Scottish lilt accentuated her worry, as her eyes traced the letters on her wife's arm, still disheartened that she had not seen Lestrange die.

Hermione tipped her head up and pressed a chastised kiss to Minerva's jaw, 'no, not anymore. It stopped hurting a long time ago,' her eyes sparkled, a glint that hadn't disappeared as she'd aged, 'it stopped even before I married you'.

Minerva walked round to seat herself next to Hermione on the sofa, 'nearly eight years ago'. A smile graced her face and her emerald eyes shone, a memory of a white dress and golden words fluttering behind them, before they darkened as that white dress fell, revealing creamy skin.

Lust flickered in deep green depths, her tongue wetting her suddenly dry lips.

'It's gone so quickly,' Hermione gave a sigh, taking Minerva's hand in hers before brushing her thumb across the gold wedding band, 'but it's been wonderful'.

'Equally as wonderful as you, I would say'.

Hermione quirked her eyebrow, pursing her lips in a mockery of a 'Professor McGonagall,' stance, 'excuse me, but are you deliberately trying to make me jump on you, Mrs McGonagall?' The lustful look in her wife's eyes hadn't gone unnoticed by her, but had instead been reciprocated so that her own mocha gaze simmered.

Minerva's leg hooked itself around her own, and she flashed a cheeky smile before pulling her wife closer to her, until the older woman's breath washed against her lips and her hips pressed against her own.

'That would be a yes, Mrs McGonagall,' Minerva smirked, before closing the distance between their lips with a passion that wasn't unusual. Immediately, Hermione responded, her tongue at the seam of the woman's lips and begging for an entrance that was readily given. She stroked and coiled her tongue languidly around Minerva's, revelling in the fire the kiss caused to burn in her veins. She felt Minerva push her back, pressing against her shoulders with her palms and she smiled slightly, still kissing her wife.

Minerva was always the dominant one.

_Typical._

Hermione willing melded herself back along the length of the sofa, Minerva pressing her down with her lithe body, dark hair hung around her face as she kissed her with bruising force. An elegant hand trailed along her robed body, before skilfully attacking the metal clasps, undoing them one by one before pushing the heavy material away from the woman's shapely body.

Minerva growled in exasperation as she was met by a barrier of silk that lay against Hermione's body.

'Do you really have to wear this as well?' her mouth slid along Hermione's jaw, nipped at her collarbone, 'You teach Transfiguration, not the art of becoming a nun'.

Panting as she was, Hermione drew back to look her wife in the eye, 'you wore exactly the same things before I took over from you'.

Minerva slid her hand up the silken garment until it rested upon Hermione's ample chest, her thumb brushing lazily across the already pebbled nipple, 'but you see, I didn't have a randy wife back then. If I had, I assure you my work attire would have been somewhat different'.

At Hermione's groan as her fingers pinched the hard nub beneath them, Minerva flashed a predatory grin before pressing her lips back against her wife's, this time, her hand sliding downward until it met the seam of silk slip.

Hermione gasped at the cool fingers that climbed her thigh, and immediately laced her own into her wife's hair, pulling her, if possible, closer against her. She closed her eyes as skilled fingers brushed the already wet material of her knickers, digging her fingers a little harder into silken hair.

'Oh, Minerva,' she gasped headily, as those wonderful fingers slid inside of her, a natural rhythm already started, and she bucked her hips, matching the pace. She was completed in moments like these, slotted together with the last piece of her jigsaw puzzle. She could feel their connection run like electricity through her, and she arched her back, increasing the contact-

It didn't take long for her to climax. Her voice called a strained 'Minerva,' as the pleasure rippled through her, wave after wave. She shuddered as her wife withdrew her fingers, and instead lay behind her, winding her arms around her chest.

'I love you,' Minerva breathed into Hermione's ear, the woman still panting ever so slightly.

'And I you, my love'.

...

_She stood, barefoot, in a corridor lit by candles. They lay everywhere; in every shape, all bearing the same flickering orange flame, a forked tongue that lashed in its waxy prison. _

_Hermione padded down the corridor, her inner slip sticking to her skin as she walked. She had no wand in her hand, and nobody besides her and the sudden crippling loneliness washed over her like cold water. _

_She peered down the shadowed corridor, searching for someone, anyone, who would take away the cold feeling in her chest. She clutched at her own bare arms as she walked, aware of the burning pain in her left forearm-_

_She glanced down and stumbled to a stop as she looked at the blood that ran from those scarred letters. It trickled in hot trails, seeping into her slip-_

_A sudden cackle bought her head snapping up, heart in her mouth, tears burning in her eyes as the pain in her arm increased. Someone was standing at the end of the corridor._

_Tumbling hair was the only feature she could pick out from the figure, yet she was suddenly sure of who it was._

_Oh god._

_The woman glided up the corridor, coming closer and closer, her features being picked out by the waning candle light._

_Hermione could feel the scream building in her throat, but her lungs had ceased in terror. She was defenceless from this monster; defenceless from-_

_A sudden gust of bone chilling wind flew through the corridor, and suddenly the two were dropped into darkness, every last flame dead. Hermione was sure her heart was about to jump from her chest and run like she desperately wanted to. _

'_I'm back, little Mudblood', Bellatrix crooned in Hermione's ear._

_Finally, Hermione began screaming._

...

Minerva awoke to screaming and a dampness on her left arm. Immediately she flew up from where she was laying, the world swimming around her for a moment as the blood rushed to her head, but she fought it back. She grasped hold of Hermione's shoulders, realising the sound was coming from her wife, and gently shook them.

'Hermione, wake up,' she said softly, but when that didn't work, she took on a louder voice, 'love, wake up'.

The screaming subsided, fading to whimpering before a sudden wrenching gasp as Hermione bolted upright.

'Oh god,' she cried, fear still sat tight in her chest, 'oh my god'.

'It's alright,' Minerva soothed the shaking woman, sweeping back hair from Hermione's forehead, 'it's just a nightmare'.

Hermione went to say something but blanched as she caught hold of her wife's left arm. She stuttered, unable to form words as she looked at the bloody skin.

Minerva gaped as well, before automatically patting herself down, searching for the wound...

And then she found it, as she looked up, lying on Hermione's arm.

The scar was split open, _Mudblood_, pouring out blood that was a crimson testament to the wound. It wasn't her who was hurt- it was Hermione.


End file.
